"Well translated, Mignonette. How will it show that, if you please?"—"He has mistaken one for a trumpet creeper."
"A scarlet runner, I suppose."
"Was I?" said Faith seriously.
"According to you. I am in Dr. Campan's predicament."
"I should think you needn't be," said Faith, simply. "Because you know, Endy I never knew even how to climb till you showed me."
Mr. Linden faced round upon her, the quick flashing eyes answering even more than his. "Faith! what do you mean?" But his lips played then in a rare little smile, as he said, very quietly, in his former position, "Imagine Mignonette, with its full sweetness—and more than its full colour—suddenly transplanted to the region where Monkeys and Geraniums grow—I like to think of the effect."
"I can't think of any effect at all," said Faith. "I should look at the Monkeys and Geraniums!"
"Of course—being Mignonette. And clearly that you are; but then how can Mignonette so twine itself round things?"
Faith thought it did not, and also thought of Pet's charge about "charming;" but she left both points.
"Most climbers," said Mr. Linden, with a glance at her, "have but one way of laying hold; but this exotic has all. There are the tendrils when it wants support, and the close twining that makes of two lives one, and the clasp of a hundred little stems that give a leaf or a flower wherever they touch."